


Safe Hands (Though I Have None)

by AceSpace



Series: Safe Hands (Though I Have None) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Characters tagged as they are mentioned, Desi Harry Potter, Gen, Harry Potter AU, Haven't decided where Hermione will be sorted yet, Indian Harry Potter, Indian James Potter, Lots of fun to be had, No Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Slytherin Harry Potter, no Original Characters, plenty of shenanigans, poc characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-05-30 04:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15088628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceSpace/pseuds/AceSpace
Summary: Inspired by an article I read on bustle when looking at Slytherin writing prompts:"during his sorting ceremony at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat very much wanted to place Harry in Slytherin but changed its mind when Harry pleaded with it not to — because it does take your desire into consideration after all. But how would Harry's years at Hogwarts have been different if Ron had never mentioned the house's dark past and Harry hadn't asked to be kept out of Slytherin?"





	1. The Boy Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

> I am making quite a few changes to canon - for more information please see the note at the end.
> 
> Links to what I headcanon characters as looking, or anything that has added inspiration for the chapter will also be linked in the end notes.
> 
> For the first few chapters, the dialogue will be very similar to, if not taking directly from, the original book. This is mostly to help me get into the flow of a character's speach pattern and thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration links at the end

###  **Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived**

 

      The Potters had many sleepless nights and stressful days. They had a young baby after all. But he was the light in the darkness of war. Little Harry knew nothing of prejudice or hatred. He knew nothing of the fights that had torn Lily’s family apart nor the sickness that had taken James’ parents before they could see their only son wed. Harry was especially ignorant of how close his family was to danger. On this particular night, Harry gummed at the tiny pumpkin his parents had sat him next to in order to take photos. Lily sat on the floor laughing as though it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

      James was perched on the couch with their spoilt cat, a peaceful smile on his face. Here, watching his wife and their son, it was so easy to imagine that they were a normal family instead of one hiding from a genocidal megalomaniac. Despite the happy scene they made, the voice in the back of James’ mind was telling him it could be over any moment.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- Sirius Black --------------------------------------------------

 

      Sirius couldn’t escape the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He tried to brush it off as he went about his usual work for the Order. After all, he hadn’t felt quite right since Remus had gone missing. Dumbledore didn’t seem to be taking Sirius’ fears, well, seriously. There had to be a spy in their midst. They all knew it. Dumbledore knew it. And now Remus was missing. Sirius had long held the whispers of doubt in his mind - he couldn’t easily play off the secretive disappearances, the long walks in the middle of the night, the full moons Remus insisted on spending alone.

      Sirius loved Remus. He tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the war was just weighing heavily on him. But then when Sirius asked him anything, Remus couldn’t meet his eyes. There was a constant guilt to his face, a tension whenever he was around Sirius. A flinch whenever Sirius touched him. Eventually, Sirius stopped trying. But he still loved him. That’s what led him to back out of being secret keeper. If Remus was working for Voldemort… it would destroy Sirius. They could use Remus against him. Peter was such a good choice, and he had been so willing. Sirius knew he was just nervous. But he would check on Peter today, like they had agreed.

      The loud POP! of apparition echoed through the dark safe house. Dark? Why was it dark? It was too early for Peter to be asleep. Peter was always up late into the night. Sirius knew that Peter wasn’t sleeping much these days at all. Peter had told him it was just the war. The nightmares of all the people they’d lost so far.

      Sirius slipped his wand out of its place, “Lumos.”

      The whole house was too dark, too quiet, and each room that went by empty filled Sirius with more and more dread. Sirius half expected to find Peter dead. But he truly feared that he wouldn’t find the smaller marauder at all.

      Finally Sirius reached the bedroom Peter had been using. The door was ajar. Sirius nudged it open. The bed was hastily made. The dresser drawers half open and askew. But empty. The closet was open and just as empty as the dresser.

      “No… No, it can’t be…”

 

\-------------------------------------------------- Potter House --------------------------------------------------

 

      Lily was halfway up the stairs with Harry when she realized she’d left her wand downstairs, “Oh shoot, James, can you take Harry up? I’ve forgotten my wand downstairs.” James, at the mention of wands, realized they had both gotten too comfortable.

      “I think I’ve left mine downstairs, too,” he said as he patted his pockets, “Go ahead on up and I’ll get both of ours.” He made a happy face at Harry and kissed him on the head before going back down the stairs. His socked feet barely made a sound as he padded through the dark rooms towards the living room. It felt colder as he rounded the corner. His heart stopped when he realized their door was open.

      “Lily!” He yelled and turned to go back, but he was stopped by the hooded figure in the darkness.

      “I’ve found you.” That voice was unmistakable.

      “Lily!” He’s here!”

      Lily could hear James screaming for her to take Harry and run. Her hand went to her wand before she remembered that it was still downstairs.

      “I’ll hold him off!” James’ last words filled her with dread. She thought about apparating, but there was nowhere to go. Remus was missing, Sirius was in hiding, Peter was either dead or… no, there was no use thinking like that now. There was a flash of green and Lily heard a thud. She slammed the door shut - no point in locking it now, was there?

      There was one hope for her to save Harry. The magic was old. She wasn’t sure how she knew it or if she could pull off such powerful magic without her wand, but she could feel her power surging under her skin. She knelt down in front of the crib.

      “Harry,” The tears were already streaking hotly down her cheeks, “You are so loved,” She tried desperately not to think about everything she would miss - learning to walk, to ride a bike, to ride a broom, his Hogwarts letter, his first crush, “Mama loves you,” She tried not to think about how he would have to grow up without his parents in a world still burning from this war, “Dada loves you,” Harry already looks so much like James, “Harry, be safe, She put every hope she had into these words, willing them into his very being, “Be strong.”

      The door blew open and she stood up. She placed herself directly between Voldemort and Harry. Now she just had to seal the spell.

      “Not Harry - Not Harry, Please, not Harry.” She begged.

      “Stand aside, you silly girl,” Lily shook her head, “Stand aside, now!”

      “Not Harry! Please, have mercy…” She took a careful step forward, “have mercy…”

      Voldemort laughed cruelly and raised his wand. The room flashed green. The echo of Lily’s scream died out and Voldemort made his way towards the crib. He gazed down at the child crying in the crib. He raised his wand once more.

 

\------------------------------------------------ Godric’s Hollow -----------------------------------------------

 

      The quiet neighborhood shook with the sound of an explosion. Muggles and wizards alike rushed to their windows to see what had happened. Bathilda Bagshot was no exception, though she moved a little slower than the others did. Looking out of her door she saw absolute chaos. People were coming out of their houses now, shouting in alarm. The roof of one of the houses had been blown out, but there was no sign of any fire. Bathilda didn’t need to go outside to know whose house it was.

      She pulled out her wand and sent an urgent message to Dumbledore. It was the only thing she could do, really. Whatever had happened at the Potter’s house was over and done with. The quicker wizards already had their wands out to set the muggles at ease and send them back indoors. None of them moved towards the house. Even though they didn’t know who lived there, they knew it was under Dumbledore’s protection. They would wait until Dumbledore cleared it.

      Bathilda watched from her window as a young man appeared before the house. She was too far away to know who it was, but she could just make out his shaggy black hair. He carefully made his way up the walk, nudging aside debris.

 

      Severus Snape already felt cold and sick as he entered the Potter house. It was the call he had hoped would never come. There in the front room laid James Potter, his normally warm brown skin gone pale, his dark eyes staring off into the distance. Severus would not mourn this particular death. Instead, he stepped over the body and made his way towards the stairs. He allowed himself to hope that James had bought Lily enough time to escape, that the explosion was merely an expression of the Dark Lord’s anger at losing the child.

      That hope was quickly squashed when he heard the cries coming from upstairs. Severus took the steps slowly. Time seemed to stand still as he made his way down the hall. He saw the hole in the roof first, felt the cold air swirling in. His eyes made their way down to the crib and the small child sobbing uncontrollably. Severus made no move to comfort him. Then he saw her. The sight of her lying there, motionless, knocked the air right out of his lungs.He barely remembered to send a message to Dumbledore, letting him know the situation.

      Severus tried to go to her but his knees gave out. He knew before he touched her that she was dead. Severus cradled Lily’s body close to him as he broke down. He was crying now too, “No. No, no, no, no.”

      He stayed like that until a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw an enormous figure that could only be Hagrid.

      “Ye’ve got t’ let go,” Hagrid’s voice was gruffer than usual, filled with emotion, “Dumbledore’ll be wantin’ ye.” Severus nodded, but made no move for several moments. Finally, he set Lily down. With one last look, he stood up and fled the scene. He waited until he was back outside to apparate.

      Hagrid did his best not to disturb Lily as he moved towards Harry. He picked up a warm looking blanket from the basket under the crib and used to to wrap up the baby. Hagrid rocked back and forth, trying to keep Harry calm. Once Harry had settled down and fallen asleep, Hagrid started down the stairs. He was nearly to the door when the great roar of a motorbike filled the air. Hagrid met Sirius halfway down the walk.

      “Sirius? What are you doin’ ‘ere?” Hagrid ask.

      “I came to get, Harry,” Sirius spotted the infant, “I’m his godfather. It’s what… It’s what James and Lily would have wanted.”

Hagrid hesitated.

      Sirius’ voice filled with emotion, “I’m his godfather, Hagrid! Give him to me.”

      Hagrid shook his head, “Can’t. Dumbledore’s orders. I’m to bring him to Dumbledore straight away.”

      Dumbledore. Right. Dumbledore knew what he was doing. Sirius hadn’t realized he had been reaching for Harry. He put his hands back down, “Right. Best to do what Dumbledore says. Take my motorbike, Hagrid. It’ll be faster.”

      Hagrid seemed to consider it for a moment, “Alrigh’”

      Once Hagrid had settled Harry in and taken off, Sirius lost control. He had told himself to keep a level head, to be strong, for Harry. Because Harry needed him. But Harry didn’t need him right this moment. Without the weight of responsibility, Sirius caved into his own desires. He had to find Peter. Now.

      It took him nearly the whole day to find Peter. Sirius was surprised to see him, not only alive, but relatively unharmed. Peter sitting amongst a rather large celebration - twitching and nervous with a fake smile plastered onto his face. If Peter was a live it could only mean one thing.

      Peter had betrayed them.

      Sirius saw red. Rage bubbled up. The whole time, the whole bloody time, Sirius had thought it was Remus who had turned traitor. Peter, one of their closest friends since the very beginning, had watched the suspicious tear Sirius apart. Peter had watched as his friends were driven apart by fear, guilt, suspicion… he had watched them all suffer. And then he used their weaknesses to his advantage. Sirius, being afraid that Voldemort would use Remus against him, had let Peter become the secret keeper. Sweet Peter. Who would ever suspect him?

      When Peter left the pub, Sirius was right behind him. He followed him down into an alley, where Peter had turned and was waiting for him.

      “Sirius!” Peter tried to pretend to be happy to see Sirius, but his eyes betrayed his own fears, desperately searching for an exit.

      “How could you?” Sirius said, “How DARE you?”

      “Sirius? Sirius, please…”

      Sirius had his wand out now, “I would have died before… You should have died. It should be you instead of them.”

      Peter’s lip quivered, “I had to, Sirius… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

      The next thing Sirius knew, his head was colliding with one of the brick walls. Where Peter had been standing was a burnt and smoking crater. Debris was falling everywhere. From the looks of it, the blast had taken out several people. Sirius rushed to the crater to see if… there! A Finger! Did Peter… But no, Sirius could see a rat scurrying away from the ditch. Sirius tried to give chase, but he found himself surrounded by aurors, their wands pointing at him.

      Sirius couldn’t help but laugh. They had all thought Peter was the sweet, caring one. He was the one full of love and light. Always soft. Sometimes a little slow, sure, but sweet. But in the end, he had pulled the biggest trick of all. He’d fooled everyone, and he’d get away with it too. He knew the picture this painted. Sirius, covered in soot, his eyes red from crying, standing in the middle of a blast and a single finger… People always underestimated Peter. He was just as smart, just as cunning and capable. He knew that Sirius would make an excellent scapegoat. And now, no one would believe Sirius was innocent.

      Sirius would only let himself think of Harry later. When he let it all hit him. When he let the pain and sadness rise up to overwhelm him. He blamed himself. After all, it had been Sirius who had suggested the change to Peter as secret keeper. It had been Sirius who ignored that nagging in the back of his mind. It had been Sirius who was too late. Too late to discover Peter. Too late to Godric’s Hollow. Too late to capture Peter. He had failed. He’d failed James. And Lily. He’d failed Remus.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- Remus Lupin -------------------------------------------------

 

      News travelled quickly. By morning, Remus had heard news of You-Know-Who’s demise. The sad news had yet to reach him. Remus celebrated in the streets with the others witches and wizards, meeting up with other Order members who had been nearby. It wasn’t until later that he heard their names whispered with quiet reverence.

      “What’s that then?” Remus asked, still smiling, a drink in hand.

      “I was just saying it was the Potter boy, Harry Potter, who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

      Remus laughed, “You must mean James,” Of course James would find a way to win the war, even from hiding. It would be nice to see them both again. Being deep undercover meant that he could never visit any of his friends. It had been too long since he’d seen Lily smile, heard James’ ridiculous jokes. And Harry must be getting so big now, “Harry is their son, the baby.”

      “Yes, the boy. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.”

      The smile slid from his face. That didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible. Harry was just a baby, “The… the Boy Who Lived?”

      The wizard nodded, “Yes, sad really. Apparently You-Know-Who came to kill the Potters. The parents both died, poor dears. But when You-Know-Who tried to kill the boy, it didn’t work. Backfired. And that’s the end of that, I tell you.”

      “Excuse me-” Remus left in a hurry, feeling like he was going to hurl. How could no one have told him? How could they let him celebrate when… No, it can’t be true. Remus hit the ground in Godric’s Hollow with the loud POP! of apparition. The site he found there brought him to his knees. The house he’d been to, only once or twice, in shambles, roof tiles littering the yard. But if… If You-Know-Who had found them, that meant that Sirius… No, God, not Sirius, too.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- Privet Drive -------------------------------------------------

 

      A gray tabby perched on a wall outside of the Dursley’s house. She stared off into the distance, unblinking/ Anyone watching would think the cat was a statue, if it weren’t for the slight tail twitches every so often. Her eyes never moved from the corner. It wasn’t until near midnight that she moved from her spot.

      A pop echoed down the empty street. Right on the spot the cat was watching appeared a man n flowing purple robes and high heeled buckled boots, Albus Dumbledore. His beard and hair were long and silvery with age. He rummaged about his pockets and sleeves, seemingly looking for something. Before he could find it, he looked up and made eye contact with the cat.

      “I should have known.” He chuckled. Then he found what he was looking for and with a flick, the lights on the street went out. In the comfort of darkness, he addressed the cat, “Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”

      The tabby cat was replaced by a rather grim looking woman in rich emerald green robes. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Despite being in cat form all day, her appearance showed none of the ruffled distress she was currently feeling.

      “How did you know it was me?” She asked, the lilt of her accent coming through as Distinctly Scottish.

      “My dear Professor,” he smiled serenely, gazing at her over the tops of his half moon glasses,  “I have never seen a cat sit so stiffly.”

      “You’d be stiff if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day.” McGonagall snipped.

      “All day?” Dumbledore didn’t seem the least bit surprised, “When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.”

      McGonagall pushed down the angry retort with a sniff, “Oh yes, everyone’s celebrating, all right. You’d think they’d be a bit more careful, but no. Even the Muggle’s have noticed. It’s been all over their news. Flocks of owls, shooting stars down in Kent - I’ll wager that was Dedalus Diggle. Never had much sense, that one.”

      Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You can’t blame them. We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.”

      “I know that!” she said irritably, “But people are being downright careless, out on the streets in broads daylight, not even trying to dress in Muggle clothes. And the rumors!” She glanced sideways at him, “I suppose he really has gone, You-Know-Who?”

      “It seems so,” Dumbledore said as he offered her a Muggle sweet.

      “You know what everyone’s saying? About why he’s disappeared?” This was the part that McGonagall was most anxious to talk about. She needed to know. Why else would she be out here all day, in the cold, sitting on a hard brick wall. She refused to believe the rumours until she heard it from Dumbledore’s own mouth.

      But Dumbledore was rather stubbornly attending to his candies, so McGonagall pushed through, “They’re saying that last night Voldemort turned up at Godric’s Hollow. The rumor is that James and Lily Potter are…” She took a minute to gather herself. These were her students, children she had watched grow up and be turned into soldiers by a war they never signed up for, “That they’re dead.”

      Dumbledore bowed his head, the only sign that he had been listening at all.

      “No… Lily and James… I can’t… I didn’t want to believe it… Albus…” She took a shaky breath to still herself. She couldn’t let the grief set in, not yet, “That’s not all. They’re saying that he tried to kill the Potters’ son, but he… couldn’t. That Voldemort’s power broke and that’s why he’s gone.”

      Dumbledore nodded.

      “It’s-it’s true?” McGonagall could hardly believe it. After all the people that Voldemort had killed, how was it that a little boy could stop him? “That’s astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of Merlin did Harry survive?”

      Dumbledore shrugged, “We may never know.”

      McGonagall pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes underneath her spectacles while Dumbledore pulled out his golden pocket watch. He watched as the little planets rotated around, closed it, and put it back in his pocket.

      “Hagrid’s late. I suppose he told you I’d be here.”

      “Yes,” McGonagall said, “And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re here, of all places?”

      “I’ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. He’s the only family he has left now.”

      “You don’t mean-” McGonagall looked back at the house in disbelief, “You can’t mean the people who live here. Dumbledore, you can’t. I’ve been watching them all day. You can’t find two people who are less like us. Harry Potter, come and live here?”

      “It’s the best place for him,” Dumbledore seemed certain of this, “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written them a letter.”

      “A letter?” McGonagall said faintly. How on earth could a letter possibly explain James and Lily Potter? Who they were, the tragedy that was their loss? The miracle that was Harry living? How on earth could a letter make up for the years spent away from magic? “You think you can explain this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He’ll be famous - a legend - I wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day. There will be books written… every child in our world will know his name.”

      “Exactly. Famous before he can walk and talk. Famous for something he won’t even remember. Can’t you see how much better of he’ll be, away from all of that until he’s old enough to take it?”

      McGonagall sighed and let it go. Soon, the low rumble of a motorcycle could be heard off in the distance. It grew louder until a large motorcycle descended out of the sky and landed right in front of them. Hagrid dismounted and greeted the two professors.

      “Where did you get that motorcycle?” Dumbledore asked

      “Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I’ve got him, sir. Fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”

      They all gathered to look at the sleeping bundle in Hagrid’s arms. Harry was light skinned, not the soft porcelain his mother had been, but not the darker brown that JAmes had been either. His hair was jet-black and tousled from sleep and wind. In the darkness, McGonagall could just make out the hint of a scar. Dumbledore took Harry from Hagrid’s arms, letting the man say goodbye, for now. With his wand in one hand, he conjured a basket large enough to and cushioned enough to cradle the little lad, and set the basket on the doorstep. Then her bent and tucked a letter into the blankets.

      The three grown wizards stood at the garden wall and watched for a few minutes. The weight of the past two days settled onto them.

      “Well,” Dumbledore said, that’s that.”

      Hagrid said his goodbyes and the motorcycle roared out of the neighborhood. Dumbledore walked to the end of the street, took out the Put-Outer and returned light to the street. Then, with whispered well wishes, he was gone. McGonagall returned to the wall.

      Harry rolled over in his basket, completely unaware of what he’d lost. His hand gripped gently at the envelope that was expected to explain his tragedies. Dumbledore and Hagrid had left to join the celebrations. But Minerva could not celebrate. Instead, she sat and watched Harry.

      In cat form, she could not shed tears that so desperately wanted to come. James and Lily had been her students. She had watched them grow up, learn to fly, make friends, fall in love. She had watched the coming war make them weary and worn. Had watched them grow fearful. Minerva had seen how they grasped at the chances to be happy - getting married younger than they might have otherwise, starting a family with the time that they had, not knowing if the next day would come for them. Minerva had never thought that they wouldn’t be here. She knew it was silly. So many of her students had died already. What was two more names?

      Minerva watched from her perch until the morning came. Until Petunia opened the door and screamed in surprise to see a baby there. Minerva prayed she was wrong and that Dumbledore was right. She hoped that the Dursleys would care for Harry. He had already lost so much. He deserved so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desi Potter Family:  
> https://shakspaeree.tumblr.com/post/174564549365/reasons-i-think-harry-potter-is-indian
> 
> The Marauders (Minus James, since I hc him as Desi):  
> http://asktheboywholived.tumblr.com/post/181383212727/plucky-ooc-based-on-this-text-post-peter  
> http://asktheboywholived.tumblr.com/post/179723874545/dark-times-part-4-peters-house-is-dark-and  
> http://asktheboywholived.tumblr.com/post/179759669861/dark-times-part-5-ooc-peter-played-by  
> (Seriously love them, lets get real)
> 
> If any of your work is linked and you would like it removed, please let me know.


	2. Going to the Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets to go to the zoo for the first time in his life.  
> What shenanigans could he possibly get into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone know that Dudley's birthday is at the end of June and Harry is only locked in the cupboard a couple weeks? Which is still a long time to be in the cupboard, don't get me wrong. But the way I always read the Nearly Ten Years Later part was that it was round about Halloween and Harry was in there for MONTHS. 
> 
> But I digress. Inspiration links are in the end notes, as per the usual.
> 
> This is also a fairly short chapter. It's longer than I'm used to writing but it's shorter than what my goal is. But There's just not a lot in this chapter.

###  Chapter Two: Going to the Zoo

 

Harry woke up feeling safe. It was not a common feeling for him on Privet drive, but he always felt safe when he spent the night dreaming of flying motorcycles - soaring through the stars and the cool wind on his face. When he woke up early enough, he would keep his eyes shut and sink into the silence. In the morning quiet it was easy to pretend that he was far, far away, where the accident that had killed his parents had never happened.

He tried to picture his father in his mind. He’d never seen a picture, but it wasn’t very hard. Harry imagined that his father looked a lot like him, only instead of warm copper skin, his father would be darker and his eyes would be brown instead of green. Harry imagined James as being tall and thin - but a healthy thin, with a constant smile like he’d just told the funniest joke. He imagined his father would tell all the best dad jokes. 

While Harry had never seen a photo of his father, he had found a faded picture of his mother. Once, while he was on punishment, he had dug through the shoe boxes shoved into his cupboard under the stairs. He’d found on with rough worn edges and faded colors. The girl was maybe 13 or 14, not much older than Harry was now, dressed in a grew school uniform with her fiery hair in a long braid she kept laid over her shoulder. He couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but he knew they were green anyways. Aunt Petunia’s eyes were green. 

Imagining his parents made the house warmer and a lot less lonely. And when the Dursley woke before him, and forgot that he was there, he would lie in bed pretending that the bustling noises were younger siblings. He imagined a sister that looked an awfully lot like him. Sometimes he imagined twins, one that was dark featured like his father, and one that shared his lighter complexion. He even imagine if he’d had a brother with light caramel skin and his mother’s red hair. This imaginary family was the best thing on during the holidays when the Dursleys were most likely to forget that he existed. But today was not one of those days. 

The pounding on the door startled Harry out of his thoughts. He was back in the cupboard under the stairs, and Petunia’s shrill voice shrieked at him, “Up! Get up! Now!”

He slowly got up, groggily responding to Petunia’s repeated calls, “Are you up yet?”

“Nearly,”

“Well, get a move on! I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn! I want everything perfect for my Duddy’s birthday.” Her voice became considerably sweeter when she spoke about her precious son. Harry groaned. He’d forgotten all about Dudley’s birthday. 

He got dressed in the too big clothes, hand me downs from his much larger cousin, occasionally having to pick spiders off. The scotch tape holding his glasses together itched against his nose, but he was used to it. 

Out in the kitchen, Harry could see all of Dudley’s presents burying the dining room table. Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry began minding the bacon.

“Comb that hair!” His uncle barked at him, the only acknowledgement of Harry’s existence, if he was lucky.  Harry smoothed his hair down quickly, hoping to avoid the frequent haircuts that Uncle Vernon demanded. He couldn’t help it that his hair was unruly, it just grew out that way. 

Harry was onto the eggs by the time Dudley arrived, Petunia right behind him. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon, round, no neck, watery blue eyes. Harry did his best to set the table around Dudley’s presents. Dudley did not make this any easier.

“Thirty-six. That’s two less than last year!”

Petunia instantly switch into trying to console her precious spoiled brat of a child, “But there’s also Auntie Marge’s present, and right next to this big one from Mummy and Daddy.”

“So thirty-seven.” Harry quickly ate his bacon, in case Dudley were to flip the entire table in his temper tantrum. 

Petunia only just managed to avoid the full scale meltdown by promising Dudley even more presents. Vernon, of course, thought that the self centered and entitled attitude of his son was a good thing, something he had inherited from his father. Dudley set about opening his presents while Petunia went to answer the phone

“Bad news Vernon, Mrs. Figg has broken her leg.” Petunia said when she returned.

He knew he should feel bad that the old woman who the Dursleys frequently dumped him on was hurt, but he was hopeful that they would simply… leave him here. Alone. 

“Now what are we supposed to do?”  Petunia asked, but Harry knew better than to suggest anything. Nor to even move or draw attention to himself in any way.

“We could phone Marge?” Vernon suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy.”

“What about your friend, Yvonne?”

“On vacation in Majorca.” Petunia became more annoyed with each suggestion.

Harry’s brain apparently decided to take a vacation to Majorca, because the next thing he knew, his mouth was saying, “You could just… leave me here?”

Petunia blew right past that suggestion, “We could always take him to the zoo and leave him in the car…”

“The car’s new. He’s not sitting in it alone.”

Just then, Piers Polkiss, Dudley’s best friend, arrived. The boy was thin with a pointed face. He and Dudley had become such good friends because Piers was the type that would hold a kid’s arms behind their backs while Dudley pummeled the snot out of them. With the argument put to a halt, Harry would simply have to go with them. 

Once they arrived at the zoo, Vernon pulled Harry aside, “I’m warning you right now, boy. Any funny business, any at all, and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.”

Harry meant it when he said he wouldn’t do anything. But odd things happened all the time. Harry often was punished for his hair growing back abnormally fast or for simply disappearing and reappearing atop the school’s kitchens when Dudley and his friends were after him. But Harry was determined today. After all, he had never been to the zoo before.

All things considered, it was going great. When Vernon bought Dudley and Piers ice cream, the lady at the stand pointedly asked what Harry wanted as well, so he was able to get a cheap lemon pop. He hung back far enough from the family that he was relatively forgotten. He could take his time looking at all the different animals, smiling at the ones who met his eyes. 

At lunch, HArry even got some more ice cream - owing to the fact that Dudley was not please with the first one that his parents bought him and forced them to buy a second one.

After lunch they went to the reptile house where Harry got to see one of his favorite animals - the snakes. Snakes were quiet and rarely bothered by people. When he was much younger he used to sit and talk to the garden snakes for hours on end as though they could talk back. But alas, things were too good to last. Dudley had arrived at a very large snake - one so big that it could crush Uncle Vernon’s car with practised ease. 

“Make it move!” Dudley whined and Vernon rapped his knuckles against the glass. The snake gave no sign of hearing it, “Again!” And Vernon tapped harder. When the snake continued to ignored him, Dudley moved on, complaining the whole way.

Harry moved up, his hand pressed softly against the glass, as though saying he understood what it was like, trapped in a small space with strange people forever staring at you and tapping on the glass. But at least Harry got to leave his room. The snake was stuck in that one little room all the time. As if it could hear his thoughts, the snake slowly opened its eyes and lifted its head. Once it was level with Harry, he could swear he saw the snake wink.

He looked around to see if anyone else had seen. They hadn’t. So he winked back. The snake jerked its head towards Dudley and seemed to roll its eyes, <i> I get that all the time. </i>

“It must be really annoying,” He murmured, not sure the snake would hear him. But then it nodded in agreement, “Where are you from?” 

He followed the snakes pointing tail to the sign, “Brazil? Was it nice there?” The boa pointed to the sign again, “Oh. You’ve never been?” The boa shook his head. 

They both jumped when Piers’ voice shouted behind Harry, “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley waddled over as quickly as he could, punching Harry out of the way and knocking him to the ground. Harry glared up at the two bullies as they pressed their entire faces to the glasses. Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but the glass was suddenly gone. They screamed in fright, but the boa paid them no mind. Instead, he slithered as quickly as he could, whispering, <i> _Brazil, here I come. Thanksssss, amigo._ </i>

 

Once the zoo workers got Piers and Dudley out of the snake’s exhibit, there was a whole lot of fuss made. The two boys were wrapped in blankets. The administration of the zoo did their best to placate Vernon and Petunia as they shrieked and shouted. Oh but the boys were adoring the attention being paid to them. Finally they managed to get back into the car. 

With Piers chattering away happily, it wasn’t very long at all before he mentioned that Harry was talking to the boa right before it made its grand escape, “weren’t you, Harry?” 

Vernon practically swerved off the road before he managed to control his temper. 

The Dursleys dropped Piers off to his parents and drove home. The second the door closed out the ever curious eyes of snooping neighbors, Petunia had Harry by the ear and was dragging him down the narrow hall. Harry bounced along the wall, smacking his shoulder and elbow and hip along the wall, against a side table,  even ramming into the door frame as Petunia shoved him inside. All the while Vernon raged against Harry and how he had positively ruined Dudley’s birthday. As though it were Harry’s fault that the glass had disappeared and the snake had escaped and the two bullies had been trapped in the enclosure. 

Harry sighed heavily. He was willing to bet that this would be one of the longest punishments he’d had as of yet. He listened carefully, waiting for the Dursleys to fall asleep so that he could creep into the kitchen for some food. Settling in, he took the worn photo of his mother out from under the thin mattress. When he was in for a long stay, he would go back to his memory and try to stretch and stretch and stretch it - until his mind hurt with the remembering.Try as he might, he could never remember his family or the crash that took them from him. He vaguely remembered a green light, though he didn’t know how that fit in at all. He wished, not for the first time, that he had some other family. 

That there was anyone out there who really saw him. Every now and then, there were strangers who seemed to know him, like a tiny man in a violet tophat who had bowed to him once in the store, a woman all in green waving to him happily, a bald man in a long purple coat who would shake his hand in the street and then disappear. Sometimes Harry thought it might just be his imagination. 

He sighed and settled in. It was going to be a long time until he could escape this cupboard now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No notes today so straight into the links!
> 
> London Zoo Reptile House:  
> https://www.zsl.org/zsl-london-zoo/exhibits/reptile-house
> 
> Harry at the zoo:  
> http://whimsycatcher.tumblr.com/post/146443608498


	3. The Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter gets a letter. Or five. Or 24. Or 100.

###  **Chapter Three: The Letters**  

 

“The Snake Incident” as Harry came to think of it had gotten Harry the longest punishment yet. During the day, Harry spent his time alone - an outcast created by a combination of Dudley’s gang of bullies and from Harry looking not quite the same as the others, whether it was the richness of his skin or his broken glasses and too large hand me downs. When he got back from school, he was immediately locked back into the cupboard. He’d managed to stash some foods in his tiny cupboard, but he feared eating while the Dursleys were near enough to hear. At night he would use a hanger to wiggle the lock free. He’d have a cold dinner and be back inside the cupboard, asleep, before anyone could catch him. He hadn’t yet figured out how to relock the cupboard, but so far no one had noticed. Or said anything about it. 

By the time he was allowed out of the cupboard, it was summer.

While Harry was glad school was over, it meant escaping Dudley was that much harder. Dudley’s gang visited the house every day, so Harry took to wandering the streets. He mapped out the area in his mind until he knew every inch like the back of his hand. He could be out on the streets from sun up to sun down without drawing attention from any of the neighbors. When the neighborhood was near empty from people travelling, he would stay out even later. Some nights he would lie out in the park, staring up at the sky as the stars came out. He named the stars he remembered from hiding in the library. While he didn’t care much for school and studying, the library was somewhere that Harry knew he would never see Dudley and his gang.  Lying there he could just make out the little and big dippers. And there was Orion and his dogs. And there was the serpent, but he couldn’t quite remember the name for that one.

But there were only so many nights one could wander the same streets and stare up at the same stars and hide from the same people. Eventually, he began to dream of the end of summer, and the small hope he had for the new school. Harry and Dudley were both starting secondary school. Dudley - the pride and joy that he was - had been accepted to the private secondary school that Uncle Vernon had gone to in his youth, Smeltings. By some brilliant stroke of luck, Piers Polkiss was also going to Smeltings. 

Harry, for once very happy to be the outcast and the dirty secret of the family, was going to the local public school. For once, he would be out from under Dudley’s thumb. Without the gang breathing down his neck, he might even be able to make some sort of friends. 

Petunia took Dudley out to London to buy his new Smeltings uniform - maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats which Harry thought Dudley looked like an absurd private school imitation of a gondolier. It was even complete with a knobbly stick - which rather than steering a tiny boat, it was meant to smack other students whilst the teachers looked the other way. The more Harry knew, the happier he was to be going to public school.

 

\-------------------------------------------- Minerva McGonagall ---------------------------------------------

 

McGonagall had long awaited this day. 

The years had dragged on so slowly, she thought as she made the slow journey up the stone stairs into the tower where the record book was kept. Today she would be copying down the names and addresses of all the students who would be attending Hogwarts this year. Of the students of hers who had fought in the war, many of them now had children who would be ready for school. 

It was hard. So many had died in the war. So many records had been destroyed. The school was showing the lasting effects of the war by how few students there were each year. It would be a long time before their numbers would recover. The list was sorted out by when the child came of age. Down the line of names, there were those whose information was blank - those who had moved out of Hogwarts’ area. But she recognized many others. 

Some names brought anticipation - Like Ron Weasley who was following a long line of brilliant, though often mischievous, brothers. But others brought back painful memories and heartache that Minerva had tried to set aside. She wrote out the address for Neville Longbottom in the neatest writing she could manage, doing her best not to think of Frank and Alice who had been far too young when they’re lives were destroyed. Finally she came to the name she had anticipated most. She didn’t know what she expected from him. But at long last she would be able to see for herself if he was alright, if they had done the right thing all those years ago. 

She wrote out his name:

Harry Potter.

Minerva looked at the address. Then looked again. That couldn’t be… but no, the book had never been wrong… She shoved down the fear that gripped her, or was it anger, and wrote out: The Cupboard Under the Stairs.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- Privet Drive -------------------------------------------------

 

The morning after Dudley showed off his new uniform, the smell of the dye permeated the whole house. Harry went into the kitchen for breakfast and found a large metal tub in the sink full of what appeared to be dirty rags in gray water. 

“What’s this?” Petunia’s lips tightened in disapproval, as if asking why Harry thought he was allowed to ask questions.

“Your new school uniform.”

Harry looked into the bowl. In it he could see his chances of making friends drowning, “Oh. I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Petunia. Harry instinctually flinched away, “I’m dying some of Dudley’s old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.”

Harry doubted that severely. But he kept his thoughts to himself. It’s not like they would make any sort of difference. Instead, he sat at the table and did his best not to think about how he would look in those ridiculous clothes.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley wrinkled up their noses when they came down to the table. Uncle Vernon said nothing as he opened up his newspaper. Dudley, in his boredom, banged his Smelting stick repeatedly against the table.

That’s where they had all been when the mail slot clicked.

“Get the mail, Dudley.” Uncle Vernon said, not looking up from his paper.

“Make Harry get it.”

“Get the mail, Harry.”

“Make Dudley get it.” Harry retorted, but ended up dodging out of the way of Dudley’s Smelting Stick. He went to get the mail. Mixed in with the usual mail and Aunt Marge’s postcard was a thick yellow envelope with elegant emerald green writing:

<i>

Mr. H Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

</i>

Harry’s heart gave a squeeze. Nobody had ever written him before. There was no one, no reason, no return address, and no stamp. Harry turned it over and looked at the heavy purple wax seal. It bore a crest - four small animals, hard to make out but he thought they might be a lion, a bird of some sort, a four legged furry thing he didn’t recognize, and a snake, arranged about a large H. 

“Hurry up, boy!” Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen. Harry went back and handed the regular mail to his uncle, trying to conceal his own letter. He waited until he was seated and Uncle Vernon was well into the usual mail before carefully opening the yellow envelope. 

“Marge’s ill,” Vernon informed the room, “Ate a funny whelk…”

Harry didn’t feel any sympathy at all for that awful woman. She was Vernon’s sister and she made her hatred for Harry very clear every single time she was near. Marge could go on for hours about ‘his kind’ and ‘his father’s sort’ and on and on. Harry had the letter out now and was just about to read it, but he had failed to notice Dudley watching him until it was already too late, “Dad! Dad, Harry’s got something!”

The letter was snatched away by Uncle Vernon as Harry shouted, “That’s mine!”

Vernon laughed and sneered, “Who’d be writing to you?” With one hand he shook the letter open and began to read it. His face went through several shades of angry red, to fear, to a sickening green. Then, having decided none of these colors were quite right, and being absolutely resolute about not turning any sort of colors that could be considered improper, the color drained from his face entirely.

“P-P-Petunia!”

Dudley tried for the letter, but Vernon held it high up while Petunia craned her neck to read it. After the first line, she began to sway as though she would actually faint outright. Her hand clutched at her throat, “Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!”

Harry wanted to read his letter now more than ever.

Vernon and Petunia stared at each other for several moments before Dudley tapped his father hard on the head and announced, “I want to read that letter.”

“I want to read it. It’s mine.” Harry said furiously. Why wouldn’t they give him his letter?

“Get out, both of you.” Vernon ordered and shoved the letter back into the letter.

For once, Harry stood his ground, “I WANT MY LETTER.”

“OUT!” roared Vernon. He shoved the letter at PEtunia, and then in one hand he gripped Dudley and the other hand he gripped Harry, forcibly removing them from the room and slamming the kitchen door behind him.

The two pressed themselves to keyhole and crack, trying hard to hear what was going on.

“Vernon, look at the address - how could they know where he sleeps? You don’t think they’re watching the house?” Harry couldn’t decide if he liked that idea or not. On one hand, someone was looking for him. On the other hand, if they were watching the house, then they knew about the Dursleys and did nothing. 

“Might be following us…” Vernon muttered in response. They talked back and forth, pacing around. The changes in volume mixed with the footsteps and the creaking of the floor and chairs made it difficult to make out much of the conversation.

“What should we do, Vernon? Write back? Tell them we don’t want-”

“No, no we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer… Yes, that’s best… we won’t do anything…”

Finally, they heard Uncle Vernon say very definitely, “I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”

 

That evening, when Uncle Vernon got back from work, he sat Harry down for a talk.

“Where’s my letter? Who’s writing to me?”

“No one. It was addressed to you by mistake. I burned it.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. It had my cupboard on it.”

“Silence!” Vernon shouted. Then he took a deep breath an forced a polite smile onto his face, “But the cupboard is what I wanted to talk with you about. Your aunt and I have been thinking that you’re getting a bit big for it… We think it would be...nice… if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.”

Harry didn’t really believe it at first. It only took him one trip to take his things upstairs. He had tucked the photograph of his mother into his pillowcase. The room was still filled with Dudley’s old and broken toys. There were also shelves full of books that looked like they had never been touched, if the thick layer of dust said anything. 

He laid back on the bed and listened to Dudley crying downstairs. How odd it was. Yesterday he would have killed to be up here. Today he wished he had his letter instead. 

 

The next morning, Harry went down to breakfast with a a still in shock Dudley. He truly was not used to not getting his way, especially after a full night’s work of crying, screamings, and temper tantrums.

When the mail arrived, Vernon made Dudley go and get it. The Smelting stick banged it’s way down the hall. Silence. Then Dudley shouted, “There’s another one! ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive--’”

Harry launched himself down the hall, but Uncle Vernon beat him to it. Vernon practically had to wrestle Dudley to the ground in order to get the letter from him. Harry flung himself at the wreckage and tried desperately to snatch it. In the end, Vernon came out with the letter and sent the boys to their rooms immediately. 

 

The next morning, Harry set an alarm, intent to get the mail before anyone else could come down. But when he got there, he discovered Uncle Vernon sleeping in front of the door. That day there were three letters for Harry. Uncle Vernon tore them up. The next day, Vernon skipped work and nailed the mail slot shut.

“If they can’t deliver them, they’ll just give up.” He stated.

“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.” Petunia said worriedly.

“These people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia. They’re not like you and me.”

Harry resisted the urge to ask what people. He knew it would go unanswered and would only serve to get him sent to his room again.  On Friday, more than 12 letters arrived for Harry. With the mail slot nailed shut, they began forcing the letters through cracks in and under doors and windows. Uncle Vernon stayed home and burned the letters. Then he nailed shut the cracks around the doors. 

Things just kept getting worse. On Saturday, 24 letters came. Only this time they were hidden inside two dozen eggs that had been delivered through the living room window by a very confused milkman. Petunia destroyed them in the food processor while Vernon phoned around for someone to yell at.

On Sunday, Uncle Vernon was oddly calm. He kept reminding them all, “No Post on Sundays. No Letters today!” Until one zoomed out and knocked him in the back of the head. The fireplace seemed to explode with letters, spewing all over. Dudley ducked for cover. Harry tried to snatch a letter from the air while Vernon bellowed, “Out! Out!”

Vernon seized Harry by the waist and hauled him out of the room, Petunia and Dudley following behind. The door slammed shut. Harry could hear the heavy envelopes thwapping against the door as they continued flooding in. 

“That’s it! We’re going away! Pack your things. Just clothes! And hurry about it!” Ten minutes later they were all packed into the car. Vernon drove and drove, taking sharp turns and muttering madly about ‘shaking them off.’ They did not stop all day, not to eat, not for anything. Dudley howled. It was clearly the worst day he had ever had. When they finally did stop, it was in front of an extremely gloomy hotel outside of a big city. 

Dudley and Harry shared a musky smelling room with two uncomfortable twin beds. Dudley snored into the night, but Harry laid awake, watching the lights of passing cars. He wondered who the letters were from. Even his imagination couldn’t conjure anyone or any reason for someone to be sending him letters with such dedication. 

 

The next morning, while they sat eating breakfast, the owner of the hotel approached them. She was holding a familiar thick yellow envelope. The writing was hard to make out, but Harry just made out:

                   Mr. H. Potter

                   Room 17

                   Railview Hotel

                  Cokeworth

“‘Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ‘undred of these at the front desk.” Harry reached for the envelope, but Uncle Vernon intercepted, asking for the rest of them. They once again drove all over, Vernon looking for something that none of them were sure of. 

“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia asked after hours. She had given up on outrunning the letters and whoever it was following them. If Uncle Vernon heard her suggestion, he gave no sign at all.

At one point they had reached the coast. Uncle Vernon got out of the car, locked it, and disappeared. Raining starting pouring down, hitting the car in loud thumps. 

“It’s Monday,” Dudley lamented, sniffling sadly, “The Great Humberto’s on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television.”

Harry started at that. Not at Dudley wanting to watch his shows, but at it being Monday. If it really was Monday, and Dudley was usually right on account of his shows, that meant tomorrow was Harry’s birthday. It was never a happy occasion with the Dursleys, he didn’t get presents the way that Dudley did, in fact, last year he had gotten a single coat hanger and a pair of Vernon’s old socks, but it wasn’t every day that you turned eleven. For some reason, it just felt special. 

Uncle Vernon came back not too long after that holding a long thin package and smiling madly, “Found the perfect place! Come on, now. Everyone out!”

It was freezing cold outside the car, and they followed Vernon’s pointing to a large rock out at sea, or rather an old run down house on top of a large rock. Harry and Dudley both sagged. There certainly was not a TV there.

The inside was awful. It smelled like old seaweed and the wind whistled through gaps in the wooden walls. The fireplace was damp and empty. Uncle Vernon tried to start a fire, joking, “Could do with some of those letters now, eh?”  Despite the misery all about him, Uncle Vernon was in a very good mood. He seemed to think that no one could reach them out there.

As night fell, a terrible storm blew in and Harry gave up all hope of ever reading his letter or finding out who it was writing to him. The windows and walls creaked as the wind blew hard. Every now and then they could hear the splash of the stormy waters being blown up against the walls of the shack. 

 

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went off to the bedroom after Petunia had made Dudley a bed on the sofa. Harry found the softest bit of floor and curled up under a thin holey blanket.  He couldn’t sleep. Instead, he lie awake, listening to the storm rage outside. The rolling thunder worked well to drown out Dudley’s snoring. Harry rolled over and stared at the wristwatch on Dudley’s arm hanging off the edge of the couch. He could just make out the time ticking by. He watched his birthday draw closer as he wondered about the mysterious letters. 

Five minutes to go. There was some creaking outside. Harry hoped the roof wasn’t about to cave in on them.

Four minutes. He imagined the house on Privet drive overflowing with letters.

Three minutes. The sea slapping against the rock seemed louder, echoing in Harry’s head.

Two. Harry scowled as he tried to identify the crunching sound. Maybe the sea was slapping so hard it was crumbling the rocks?

One minute. 

Thirty seconds.

Twenty.

Ten…

Nine…

Three… 

Two… one….

The whole shack seemed to vibrate to a loud BOOM. Harry sat bolt upright and stared at the door. The noise came again. 

Someone was knocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much to write in this chapter either because not much happens. 
> 
> Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Names:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d7/a3/57/d7a357446865f511deac59cf4c1dff3f.png


	4. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time our hero was startled by a loud banging at the door of their shack on the rocky island in the middle of nowhere during a raging storm. Find out who is at the door in this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, Minerva's name is meant to be listed twice. The first one is supposed to be a signature but I couldn't figure out how to format that correctly in the submission box

###  **Chapter Four: Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds**

 

Dudley sat up with a start,”Where’s the cannon?”

There was a crash from Uncle Vernon running into the room. He was carrying a rifle while shouting, “Who’s there? I warn you - I’m armed!”

For a second, Harry thought that the threat of being shot had done the trick. Then the door banged again, so loudly that you could hear the hinges snap. The door clattered to the floor. In the door stood a giant of a man, his long and wild hair hiding most of his face. The giant squeezed himself through the doorway, picked up the door, and fitted it back into the frame. He was hunched a bit so that his head just barely scraped the ceiling. 

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea? It’s not been an easy journey.” The giant said when he turned to look at them. They all stood frozen as the giant walked over to Dudley and made him move out of the way. Dudley scurried off to hide behind Aunt Petunia, who cowered behind Uncle Vernon. 

When the giants eyes landed on Harry, his face broke into a smile, “An’ here’s Harry! Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby.” 

Harry took a cautious step forward, guessing that this was one of ‘those people’ who had been writing to him. The large man continued, “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.” Warmth filled Harry’s chest, erasing all the fear that had set in earlier. This man knew his parents. 

Vernon made a noise, “I demand you leave at once! You are breaking and entering!”

The stranger rolled his eyes and yanked the gun out of Vernon’s hands, “Shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,”He tied the rifle in knots as though it was nothing special and tossed it into a corner, “Anyway Harry, happy birthday to yeh. Got somethin fer yeh here. Mighta sat on it at some point but it’ll taste right.” From inside the heavy black overcoat the stranger pulled out a beat up box that Harry opened with trembling hands. Inside was a sticky chocolate cake with green icing wishing him a happy birthday.

Harry was very confused. How did this man know his parents? How had he found them? Was he the mysterious letter writer? Harry hoped he would find out before Vernon kicked the man out. So far, it was the best birthday Harry could remember. He’d actually gotten a cake this year. He wanted to say thank you but the words got jumbled and it came out as, “Who are you?”

The giant chuckled. It was warm and kind, “Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” He reached out a hand and shook Harry’s whole arm. When he released Harry, he began to comment on tea again, “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”

Then Hagrid leaned forward and messed around with the fireplace. Harry couldn’t see what he was doing, but it apparently worked. The hut felt instantly warmer with the fire going. Hagrid sat down on the sofa, his weight forcing it to sag considerably. Harry watched Hagrid open up his coat and start pulling out things that had no business being inside of a coat. There was a copper kettle, a package of sausage, a poker, a teapot, several mogs, and a bottle of warm colored liquid that the man took a swig of before he started making his tea. Soon the little shack on the jagged rock was filled with the smell of sizzling sausages. 

“Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley!” Vernon said when Dudley started to fidget.

Hagrid just chuckled, “Don’ worry bout that, Dursley,” and handed Harry a plate. 

Harry was so hungry, he started right in on the plate. He was sure he’d never tasted anything so good. They sat there for a minute, Harry eating, Hagrid drinking tea, and the Dursleys tensed like deer in headlights. Finally, Harry said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”

Hagrid wiped his mouth, “Call me Hagrid. Everyone does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m keeper of keys at Hogwarts - yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”

“Er- no.”

Hagrid blinked in shock.

Harry added a quick sorry, feeling a sudden unexplained guilt. His shoulders hunched and he tried to sink into the ground. 

“Sorry?” Hagrid puffed up and turned to the Dursleys, “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”

“All what?”

“ALL WHAT?” Hagrid thundered and leapt to his feet in anger, “Now wait just a second. Do you mean to tell me,” He growled angrily at the Dursleys. Harry felt odd - there was so much anger in the room and none of it directed at him, “Do you mean to tell me that this boy - This one - knows nothin’ abou’ - about ANYTHIN? About our world? His parents’ world?”

“What world?” Hagrid looked like he would explode.

“But yeh must know about yer mum and dad. I mean… they’re famous. You’re famous.”

“What? My… my mum and dad… weren’t famous.. Were they?”

“Yeh don’ know… yeah don’ know… yeh don’ know what yeh are?”

“Stop!” Vernon interrupted, “Stop right there! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!”

Hagrid shook with rage. His every word came out with palpable tense anger, “You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? An’ you’ve kept it from him all these years?”

“Kept what from me?” Harry said angrily. He wanted answers right now!

“Stop! I FORBID YOU!” Vernon yelled in a panic. Petunia gave a great horrified gasp.

“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” Hagrid turned to Harry, “Yer a wizard, Harry.”

The silence in the hut was broken only by the whistling wind and churning seas.

“I’m a what?”

“A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid, putting himself back onto the couch, “An’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ da like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

 

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Soc., Chf. Warlock, 

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

 

Dear Mr. Potter,                                                         

      We are pleased to inform you that you have been 

   accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and   

equipment.                                                               

           Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by 

no later than July 31.                                                

Yours sincerely,                                                        

_Minerva McGonagall*_                                                  

Minerva McGonagall                                                  

Deputy Headmistress                                                

 

Harry read the letter. It felt surreal. Like any moment he would wake up back in the cupboard and it would all have been a dream. So much happened that he felt his head would explode. Question after question popped off like fireworks in his mind.

“What does it mean, they await my owl?”

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” Hagrid exclaimed before pulling a real life, angry looking, owl from his coat and a long quill and parchment. Harry watched as Hagrid wrote: <i> _ Dear Professor Dumbledore, Given Harry his letter. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well. Hagrid. _ </i> When he’d finished the note, Hagrid rolled it up and let the owl clamp it in its beak, and threw the owl out into the storm. 

“Now where was I?”

Uncle Vernon had regained his courage and moved into the fire light, “He’s not going.”

Hagrid grunted, “I’d like ter see a Muggle like you stop him.”

“A what?” Harry asked.

“A Muggle, it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

“We swore,” Vernon started, “We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish! Swore we’d stamp it out of him. Wizard indeed. Hmph.”

“You knew!” Harry was on his feet now, feeling courage he never had before, “You knew I’m a wizard?”

“Knew?” Petunia squaked, “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being who she was?” The disgust in Petunia’s voice made Harry glad she had stayed silent about his mother all these years, “Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared to that- that school- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. For mother and father it was Lily this and Lily that, they were so proud of having a witch in the family. But I saw her for what she really was - a freak!”

Petunia took a deep breath, like she had been holding all this in for years, “Then she met that <i> _ Potter  _ </i> at school and they left and got married and had <i> _ you _ </i> and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as-as-as abnormal- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up. And we. Got landed. With. You!”

Harry could feel himself growing numb as she talked. The blood in his veins went cold and his spine hardened like steel. He hated the way Petunia talked about his mother. But the absolute disgust and venom that filled her voice when she spoke about his father filled him with the most anger he had ever felt, “Blown up? BLOWN UP? You told me that they died in a CAR CRASH!”

Hearing that, Hagrid jumped to his feet, “A CAR CRASH? How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? It’s an outrage! A SCANDAL! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every kid in our world knows his name?”

Harry pushed aside his anger at the Dusleys and turned to Hagrid, “Why? What happened?”

Hagrid deflated, “I never expected this. I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah, Harry, I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh - but someone’s gotta - yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.”

Then Hagrid sat down and he told Harry everything. He told him about the war that was going on when he was born, about Voldemort - who lead the dark wizards, how his mother and father fought under Dumbledore, how they defied He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and how he found them, and killed them, “An’ then- this is the real myst’ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh. But it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Harry

“No one ever lived after he decided ter kill’em. No one except you, and he killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the PRewetts - an’ you was only a baby. An’ you lived.”

Harry couldn’t remember sitting down, but he was on the couch now, with Hagrid looking at him sadly. Dudley looked at him with some odd combination of fear and awe. Vernon looked downright angry. HArry couldn’t see Petunia, but he assumed she looked just like her husband. 

“Took yeh from the ruined house, myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter this lot.”

“Load of old tosh!” Vernon burst, “Now, you listen here, boy. I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types-”

Hagrid was up in an instant, pointing his large pink umbrella at Vernon like a sword, “I’m warning you, Dursley, I’m warning you - one more word…”

With Vernon silenced, Hagrid sat back down with Harry.

“So what happened to Vol-” Harry corrected himself for Hagrid’s sake.

“Disappeared. Some say he died. Codswallop. Most of us recko he’s still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. Something about you finished him, HArry. There was somethin’ goi’ on that night he hadn’t counted on.”

“Hagrid,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.” It would be too good to be true. His parents? Heroes? And getting to escape Privet drive and the Dursleys?

“Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?”

Harry scowled and looked off into the fire. He thought of every odd thing that had made Petunia and Vernon angry. He thought of trying to escape Dudley and his gang - how he sometimes just appeared in odd places, how his hair grew back overnight in pure spite, getting accidental revenge every time Dudley hit him. He smiled at the remembering.

Hagrid was beaming at him now, “See? Harry Potter. You’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.”

“Haven’t I told you he’s not going?” Vernon hissed, “He’s going to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sort of rubbish - spell books and wands and -”

“If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” Hagrid bit back, “His name’s been down ever since he was born. He’s off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. An’ he’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-”

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!”

Hagrid whirled angrily, whipping out his pink umbrella, “NEVER - INSULT - ALBUS - DUMBLEDORE - IN - FRONT - OF - ME!” and with a swish, the tip of the umbrella pointed at Dudley. A loud pop like a firecracker going off sent a flash of violet light. Dudley howled in pain and tried to cover up the curly pig’s tail that had sprouted through his trousers. All three of the Dursley’s shouted and retreated into the bedroom, firmly locking the door behind them

“Shouldn’ta lost me temper...Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I’m - er - not supposed ter do magic strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff - one o’ the reasons I was keen ter take on the job-” He mumbled by way of some explanation. Then Hagrid clapped Harry on the shoulder, “It’s gettin’ late and we’ve got lots ter do tomorrow. Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an’ that.”

Harry laid down on the couch and Hagrid laid his giant cloak over the boy to keep him warm. Harry hadn’t realized how tired he was, but all the energetic hubbub had really worn him out. He fell asleep in no time. Surrounded by the smell of warmed leather, Harry dreamt of flying motorcycles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter:
> 
> Hagrid and Harry:  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/705024516641817033/visual-search/?x=16&y=16&w=530&h=548


	5. Terrible, but Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes a trip to Diagon Alley and meets a lot of strange folks

###  **Chapter Five: Terrible, but Great**

 

Harry woke up early the next morning. He kept his eyes closed, trying to hold onto last night’s dream. There had been a mysterious giant, magic, a revelation about his parents. It couldn’t be real. Harry told himself that again and again, it was all just a dream. Maybe if he could convince himself, it wouldn’t be as disappointing when he fully woke up. The loud tapping sound that came next had to be Aunt Petunia at the cupboard door. Harry sat up and he felt a heavy weight shift off of him and hit the floor with a thud!

Harry stared down at the floor, his sleepy brain trying desperately to catch up. He was on a couch. There was a huge leather coat bunched up on the floor. Harry looked around. He wasn’t in the cupboard. He was in the shack. And if he was in the shack… He jumped to his feet and looked around. There! Hagrid was sleeping in a half collapsed arm chair. The tapping was coming from the window. Harry went over and jerked the window open, letting in a large owl that was holding onto a newspaper.

The bird swooped in and dropped the paper directly on Hagrid before landing and pecking at his coat impatiently.

Harry tried to shoo the bird away, “Don’t do that!” but quickly retreated when the bird snapped at him.

Exasperated by the bird, Harry finally turned to Hagrid, “Hagrid! There’s an owl…”

“Pay him…” Hagrid mumbled sleepily.

“Pay… what?”

“He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”

Harry skirted around the bird and picked up the coat. Look in the pockets was easy to say, but the coat had more pockets than any coat had reason to have. He found keys, pellets, several balls of string, peppermints, teabags, and then, on about the seventh or eighth pocket, he pulled out a fistfull of strange coins, “Hagrid…”

“Give him five Knuts.”

“...which ones are Knuts?”

“Little bronze ones.”

Harry counted out five bronze pieces and put the rest back into the pocket. He nervously turned to the owl, but instead of pecking angrily, the bird merely held its leg out so that Harry could slip the coins into the leather pouch.

Once the bird had flown off, Hagrid rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”

Harry deflated, “Um… Hagrid?” He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” The large man was pulling on his boots rather forcefully.

“I haven’t…” Harry took a deep breath, “I haven’t got any money. And you heard Uncle Vernon last night… he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic.”

Hagrid chuckled, “Don’t worry about that. D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed-”

“They didn’ keep their gold in the house, boy!” Hagrid laughed outright and clapped Harry on the shoulder, “Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold - an’ I wouldn’ say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”

Harry moved towards the food, his mind reeling.

“Wizards have banks?”

“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”

“Goblins?!” Harry nearly dropped the sausage that was on its way to his mouth.

“Yeah - so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never. Mess. with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world, ‘cept for Hogwarts. I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business,” Hagrid sat up straighter when he talked about Hogwarts and Dumbledore, “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you - gettin’ things from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see.”

He looked down at Harry, who had just finished eating, “Got everythin’? Come on, then.”

 

The outdoor world was so much brighter and happier in the daylight. Though it could have just been the drastic change of circumstances. Harry stood, his face lifted to let the sun warm his skin. The sky was clear and the sea glittered and gleamed. Looking after Hagrid, Harry could see that the only boat was the one that had brought him and the Dursleys in the day before.

“Hagrid?” He started down the rocks after the large man, “How did you get here?”

“Flew.”

“FLEW?”

“Yeah - but we’ll have ter take the boat. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.”

Once they were in the boat and shoved off, Hagrid looked one way and then the other, as though checking to make sure they weren’t being watched. Then he pulled out his pink umbrella and tapped it on the sides of the boat. With that, the boat took off towards land.

Without the distraction of having to row, Hagrid told Harry all about Gringotts - the spells and enchantments that protected the vaults. He told the boy about dragons deep underground and how the tunnels underneath the bank ran for miles underneath London.

“Crikey, I’d like a dragon,” Hagrid commented.

When Harry had exhausted all of his questions about wizard banks, he asked Hagrid about the things in the paper - like the Minister of Magic, which Harry felt he should probably know something about even though he wasn’t sure why magic folks needed an entirely different government of their own.

“Their main job is to keep it all - witches an’ wizards an’ magic - away from the Muggles.”

“But why?”

“Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.” It occurred to Harry that that was an oddly selfish way of looking at magic. Why wouldn’t people want to share it? Why wouldn’t they want to help people and make things better?

In town, they made their way to the train station. Hagrid seemed as confused by Muggle money as Harry was about wizard’s money, so Harry paid for the train tickets and got them sat down. Hagrid pulled out his knitting - Harry thought it looked like a large yellow tent and wouldn’t hazard a guess as to what it actually was.

“Still got yer letter, Harry?” Hagrid said as he counted his stitches, “There’s a list there of everything yeh need.”

Harry took out the letter and read it over:

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

 

Uniform

First-year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or  similar)
  4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)



Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

 

Course Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grad 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard

size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE  NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Harry read over the list a second time, “Can we get all this in London?”

“If yeh know where to go.” Hagrid smiled.

 

They arrived in London and made their way to the Underground. Harry had never been in London before. He felt like he was staring so much that it must be obvious he wasn’t from here. But people looked right over him and at Hagrid. Harry was never happier to be overlooked. But at the same time, Hagrid wasn’t used to getting around ‘the Muggle way,’ so Harry had to help things along quite a bit.

“This is it,” Hagrid said at last, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”

The pub was packed. The noise dropped to silence when they walked in, everyone looking to see who had arrived. They all seemed to recognize Hagrid, smiling and waving, calling out greetings. The bartender reached for a large glass, “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business.” Hagrid clapped Harry on the shoulder and the whole place went silent once more.

Tom’s eyes were glued to Harry, “Good Lord. Is this? Can it be? Bless my soul. It’s Harry Potter,” he rushed out from behind the bar to shake Harry’s hand, “Harry Potter… what an honor. Welcome back Mr. Potter, welcome back!”

Hagrid had said Harry would be famous, but it was one thing to hear that you were famous and an entirely different thing to see it in action. It was simultaneously the coolest and most frightening moment of his young life. People were paying attention to him. And they were happy to see him. He’d never seen people genuinely happy to see him. But Harry feared he couldn’t live up to their expectations. He was just Harry.

Everyone was lined up to shake his hand and pat his shoulder, “Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, I just can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud!”

“Always wanted to shake your hand-”

“Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you. Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”

“I’ve seen you before!” Harry beamed, “You bowed to me once in a shop.”

“He remembers!” Diggle said excitedly to everyone nearby, “Did you hear that? He remembers me!”

Harry shook so many hands that he lost track. Doris Crockford came back several times. Apale young man came up the line. Hagrid greeted him happily, “Professor Quirrell! Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“Hello.”

“P-P-Potter,” Quirrell took his hand, “c-c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?” Harry was eager to learn all he could as fast as he could. He already felt dreadfully behind.

“D-defense Against the D-dark Arts. N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-potter?” Quirrell laughed nervously, “I suppose you’ll be getting all your equipment, eh? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new book on vampires, m-myself.”

Before they could carry on the conversation, the crowd closed in and shuffled Quirrell away. Ten minutes flew by in a whirlwind of faces and hands and pats on the back and shoulder. Finally Hagrid ushered him through the bar and into a small walled in courtyard in the back.

“Told yeh, didn’ I,” Hagrid chuckled, “Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ - mind you, he’s usually tremblin’”

“Is he always that nervous?”

“Oh, yeah. Brilliant mind, though. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books, but them he took a year off ter get first-hand experience… they say he met vampires in the Black Forest, had a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag, an’ he’s never been the same since.”

Harry’s head spun thinking about the possibilities. All the stories he’d heard - not at the Dursley’s mind - might actually be true, though to what extent he still didn’t know. While Harry was trying to make his head stop spinning, Hagrid approached the wall and tapped three times with his umbrella - three up… two across… Then the bricks began to quiver and wriggle. The bricks at the center of the wall began to pull back. They flipped and moved to the sides, allowing a whole to open up. It grew wider and wider until it created a large archway - big enough to even fit Hagrid through it easily. On the other side laid a cobbled street. It twisted and winded up and out of sight.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

 

Harry stared at everything in amazement. He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined such wonder. He decided that it was all really. He didn’t think even his imagination could create such an intricate illusion. Behind them, the wall quivered shut once more. The first shop was filled with glimmering cauldrons, brightly polished and stacked high. Each stack had a sign over it identifying what sort - copper, brass, pewter, silver, self-stirring, and collapsible, in all different sizes.

Harry swivelled his head so often that he strongly wished that he could grew eight more pairs of eyes to look at everything. There were so many shops. And so many people. And they were all dressed in various colorful robes. There was a shop filled with owls - also of every kind - and there was a shop with broomsticks in the window and a crowd of schoolboys chattering loudly with their faces pressed against the window.

At the end of the long road stood a huge white marble building. It towered above the other shops on the street. The massive doors were burnished bronze and on either side of the door was short men in scarlet and gold uniforms.

“Gringotts.” Hagrid said.

As they got closer, Harry could see that the men weren’t human. Their skin looked leathery and slightly bumpy. Both men were also an odd shade of green that clashed ever so slightly with the red uniforms. Their ears were pointed and long, as were their fingers and feet.  Harry assumed these were the goblins Hagrid had told him about. The guard on the left had a well groomed beard. He watched them pass, bowing his head slightly in greeting.

Through the large doors stood a second pair of doors. This set was just as big, but silver with words engraved on them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Another pair of goblin guards bowed them through the silver doors and into a vast marble hall. Very tall counters lined the hall. Goblins sat atop tall stools, working at the counters. Some scribbled in ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales. Others examined precious stones through eyeglasses. Many doors opened onto the hall, and many goblins bustled in and out of the doors - leading people here and there. Hagrid and Harry made their way towards one of the counters.

“Morning,” Hagrid said to one of the available goblins, “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s safe.”

The goblin leaned forward to see look at the boy, then leaned back to look at Hagrid, “You have his key, sir?”

Hagrid frowned and started rifling through his pockets, “Got it here somewhere…”

While that was going on, Harry watched another goblin weighing a pile of rubies. It was so amazing to him. He didn’t know how much more amazement he could possibly take.

“Got it!” Harry looked up as Hagrid produced a tiny golden key. The goblin behind the counter took it and looked it over.

“Everything seems to be in order.”

“Ah, an’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore. It’s about you-know-what in vault 713.” Hagrid pulled the letter out of his chest pocket and handed it over.

“Very well,” the goblin said after he’d read over the letter, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

Another goblin, Griphook, led the two of them through another set of doors. Behind the doors was a set of very narrow stone passageways. The floor had rail cart tracks. Griphook whistled and then the echoes of metal screeching along metal filled the air. A cart came hurtling around a corner and towards their group. It slammed to a halt just before them. The three of them got in with a little difficulty, and then the cart took off once again. Hagrid became progressively less talkative as he turned a sickly green. Harry on the other hand felt like he couldn't see near enough. Finally they arrived at the first vault.

Griphook got out of the cart, followed by Harry and Hagrid. Griphook unlocked the door and green smoke poured out of the door. When the smoke cleared Harry gasped. There were mountains of gold shimmering from every corner of the room. In Between the gold stacks were towers of silver and the bronze Knuts Hagrid had told him about before. All of this was his.

The Dursleys couldn’t possibly know about it. How often did they complain about the cost of raising him? How often was that used to guilt him? Harry could buy his own house with this. He would never have to live under their thumb again. Except that he was too young and no one would ever sell to an 11 year old child. But he could dream, couldn’t he?

“The gold ones are Galleons,” Hagrid explained as he helped him load some into a bag, “Seventeen silver Sickles makes a Galleon. Twenty-nine Knuts makes a Sickle. That should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe fer yeh.” Then he turned to Griphook and reminded him of the second vault.

“A bit slower this time?” Hagrid asked hopefully.

“One speed only,” Griphook replied.

The next vault was far deeper into the caverns. It grew colder as they went down and Harry found himself leaning into Hagrid to keep warm. Vault 713 had no key hole. Instead, Griphook gently stroked the door with one long finger and the door melted away. Griphook could see the aw on Harry’s face.

“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there.” He mentioned casually.

“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?”

“About once every ten years.” Griphook said with a wicked grin. Harry figured something truly impressive must be inside this vault. He leaned forward excitedly, but instead of jewels and treasures, it was a single grubby package poorly wrapped in brown paper. Hagrid picked up the package and tucked it into his coat.

Back on Diagon Alley, it occured to Harry that he was holding more money than he had ever had in his entire life. And he hadn’t a clue where to begin with it. So Hagrid led him down the road a bit to a store called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry,” He said as they approached the door, “Would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.”

Harry thought Hagrid still looked a bit sick, “Go on. I’ll be alright.”

Even though he’d sounded confident, he entered the shop feeling a bit nervous.

A plump witch dressed all in mauve came up to him. She was all smiles and warm greetings, “Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here - another young man is being fitted up just now, in fact.” She ushered Harry into the back of the shop and set him up next to a pale boy with a pointed face. A second witch was pinning up the boy’s long black robes. Madam Malkin slipped a similar robe over Harry’s head and went about pinning it as well.

“Hello,” The boy said. His face held an arrogant confidence, but Harry could hear the uncertainty in his voice, “Hogwarts, too?”

Harry smiled at him, “Yes.”

The boy smiled back, “My father’s next door buying my books. Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” Harry noted how the boy drew out his words so elegantly, “Then I’ll drag them to look at racing brooms. I don’t know why first years can’t have their own. Maybe I’ll convince father to buy me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry bit back a scoff. The boy suddenly reminded him of Dudley.

The boy went on, “Have _you_ got your own broom?”

“No.”

“Play Quidditch?”

“No.” What on earth was a quidditch?

“I do. Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” Harry was beginning to feel stupid.

“No.” He said rather shortly.

The boy didn’t seem discouraged, “Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family has been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff,” The boy laughed, “I think I’d leave.”

“Mmm” Harry notice some people just liked to hear themselves talk. Of course, with that accent, Harry might like to hear himself talk, and if he’d grown up with all the money he’d just seen in that vault...

Then the boy pointed out the large man standing by the window, “I say, look at that man!” Hagrid grinned at Harry and then gestured to the two ice cream cones as reason he couldn’t come inside.

“That’s Hagrid,” Harry said, proud to finally know something the other boy didn’t, “He works at Hogwarts.”

“I’ve heard of him. He’s some sort of servant isn’t he?”

“He’s the gameskeeper.” Harry rolled his eyes. He cold feel himself getting that same cold anger he’d felt the other day.

The boy shifted nervously before leaning in and dropping his voice lower, “I heard he’s some sort of savage - lives in a hut, gets drunk every now and then and sets fire to his bed trying to do magic.”

“I think he’s brilliant.” Harry said coldly. The boy looked shocked, then hurt, and then very quickly put on an arrogant mask.

“Do you?” He sneered. Then he took a minute to think, “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead.” Harry said shortly. That seemed to shut him up for a moment.

“Oh. Sorry.” Except he didn’t sound sorry. His face scrunched up as he thought for a moment, “But, they were our kind, weren’t they?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they got the letter. Imagine it.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply that he’d never heard of Hogwarts until he’d gotten his letter, thank you very much, but just then Madam Malkin pronounced his measurements finished. Harry quickly stepped off the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose.”

 

Hagrid could tell something was off as they went about buying other supplies, but he didn’t push it. Finally, Harry asked, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”

“Blimey Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know - not knowin’ about Quidditch!”

“Well don’t make me feel worse!” Harry said and then told him all about the boy in the robe shop, “And he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed - “

“But yer not from a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh were - he’s grown up knowin’ yer name if his parents were wizardin’ folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it? Some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ‘em in a long line o’ Muggles - Look at yer mum! And what she had fer a sister.”

It sort of made Harry feel better. But he didn’t want to rely on a name to make friends. And he didn’t like not knowing anything at all, “So what is Quidditch?”

Hagrid launched into an explanation of the sport - the goals and players. Harry was glad to be learning something that seemed important to wizards, but it all went in one ear and out the other if he was being honest.

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?”

“School houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but -”

“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” Harry said glumly.

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” Hagrid said seriously, “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one of ’em.”

Harry doubted that a fourth of the school could be plainly evil. After all, that boy he’d just met was a snob, sure, but evil? “Vol- sorry, You-know-Who was at Hogwarts?”

“Years an’ years ago.”

They went into Flourish and Blotts to pick up his school books. Harry was so fascinated by all the spells. He ran his fingers over the multitude of colorful spines - tiny books to large books, silk to leather. Hagrid practically had to drag him away from a book on curses and counter-curses.

“I was just trying to find out how to curse Dudley.” Harry said only half joking.

“I’m not sayin’ that’s a bad idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in a very special circumstances. Anyway, yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet. Yeh’ll need a lot of study before yeh get ter that level.

In the cauldron shop, Harry found himself drawn to the pure gold cauldrons. He could definitely afford to get one. But Hagrid, trying to be the voice of reason, “It says pewter on yer list.” So Harry bought the pewter cauldron and reluctantly moved away from the golden cauldron.

“Just yer wand left - oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.”

Harry felt his cheeks get warm, “You don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh, what, I’ll get yer animal.”

They made their way down to Eeylops Owl Emporium. Harry walked up and down the rows of birds. Hagrid had said that toads had gone out of style, and the cats were making Hagrid sneeze. And the letter was quite specific about what kinds of animals were allowed. He wandered until he saw her. A beautiful snow owl. She locked eyes on the boy, sizing him up. Then she hopped carefully down the different perches until she could butt her head against his chest. Harry chuckled, “Would you like me to take you? Is that it?”

Not too long after that, Harry left the store with a large cage. The snowy owl asleep with her head neatly tucked under her wing. He couldn’t stop himself from thanking Hagrid over and over.

“Don’ mention it. Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.”

This was the part that Harry had been really excited for, the part that he thought would make it all seem that much more real.

The shop was narrow and a little bit shabby, as though it had been standing on this corner for centuries. And if the sign was to be believed, it had been. The Peeling gold letters above the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. In the dusty window was a single wand on a faded purple cushion.

Harry wondered if this really was the best place that Hagrid said it was. Nonetheless, they entered. The door created a tinkling of a bell, alerting whoever was inside to the entrance of customers. The room felt full of magic, and Harry pushed down the new flood of questions that came to mind. An old man appeared before them, his pale eyes wide and shining as they gazed at Harry.

“Hello.” Harry said awkwardly.

“Ah yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Harry Potter.” The old man took a deep breath, “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Ollivander moved closer, his eyes glued to Harry’s face as though looking through to his soul. Harry shifted uncomfortably and wished that the old man would blink. Just once, “Your father, on the other hand, favored mahogany. Eleven inches, pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - but it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard of course.”

Ollivander and Harry were nose to nose now,and Harry was doing his best not to blink. Hed somehow entered into the most awkward staring contest and wished he could get out of it. Then, Ollivander touched the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did that. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…” Ollivander shook his head, “Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do…”

Then he spotted Hagrid, “Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid, how nice to see you again! Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

Hagrid beamed, “It was, sir, yes.”

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” Ollivander said sternly.

“Er - yes.” Hagrid shuffled, “I’ve got the pieces, though.”

“But you don’t use them?” Ollivander said sharply.

Hagrid looked away guiltily, “Oh, no, sir.”

Ollivander hmphed and then turned to Harry, “Well, now Mr. Potter. Let me see. Which is your wand arm?”

Harry watched as the man produced a long silvery tape measure, “I’m right-handed?”

“Hold out your arm.” Ollivander measured Harry from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, more measurements than Harry was convinced were actually necessary. As the tape measure went, Ollivander spoke, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. Unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same.”

Harry looked over at Ollivander only to realize that he was down one of the aisles rifling through boxes and the tape measure was acting on its own accord.

“That will do,” he said and the tape measure fell to the ground, “Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry took the wand. He thought he would feel something, but all he felt was fair foolish. He gave it a little wave, but Ollivander snatched it away almost at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy.” Harry barely raised that one before Ollivander snatched it too.

“No, no…. here , ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”

Harry waved it and boxes went flying off the shelf. He went to apologize but Ollivander chuckled merrily. The more boxes that piled up, the happier Ollivander seemed, “A tricky customer, eh?” Ollivander laughed, “Not to worry! We’ll find the perfect match here somewhere!”

Ollivander shifted through a few more boxes. He came back with one box, an odd glint in his eye, “I wonder...Yes, why not. Unusual combination. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Warmth spread from Harry’s fingers as he gripped the wand. It felt… right. Like it belonged in his hand. He raised the wand and gave it a sharp swish through the dusty air. Sparks shot out of the wand, dancing like fireworks and casting bright lights against the wall. Hagrid whooped and clapped while Ollivander cheered.

“Curious, how very curious.” Ollivander chuckled as he wrapped the box for Harry.

“Sorry, but what’s curious?”

Ollivander fixed his eyes on Harry, “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… why, it’s brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed. Something dropped inside his stomach. He wished the wand was back in his hand. It made him feel safer somehow.

“The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspirations:
> 
> Diagon Alley:  
> https://www.hp-lexicon.org/?attachment_id=21715
> 
> Madam Maulkin's Robe Shop:  
> http://s-u-w-i.tumblr.com/post/161703434059/madam-malkins-drew-as-a-celebration-for
> 
> Draco Malfoy:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/natello/gallery/?catpath=%2F&edit=0&q=draco
> 
> Harry Potter:

**Author's Note:**

> I am making quite a few changes to canon - not only changing the sorting for some of the characters, but also races (I will be double checking against explicit book descriptions, but any person who is vaguely described is fair game) and sexualities. That being said, I will try to only physically describe characters when the books do, and I'll avoid as much of the dull narration as I can. I know I'll at least do the first book, though idk after that.


End file.
